


and the clouds are breaking now

by shikae (39smooth)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cute Kids, Gen, M/M, Post-Divorce, Single Parents, Slow Build, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-04-07 08:20:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4256202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/39smooth/pseuds/shikae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Single parent!AU. Good weather, warm hands, and the right kind of tea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the clouds are breaking now

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted may 2015, for suholiday.

The split is amicable.

She packs her things as they make idle chatter, he carries her suitcase for her to the front door. She kisses him on the cheek as she places her hand on the doorknob, whispering, “You’ve a good man, Joonmyun.” He watches her leave with a last wave, the wish of a new life beginning again, and a hopeful smile that matches her own.

A light patter of footsteps across the parquet floor. Jimin’s tiny hand comes up to clasp at the fabric of his trouser leg. “Daddy,” he says, words tumbling out sleep-logged, and Joonmyun bends down to reach an arm around him, and pick him up with ease, “where’s mommy going?”

“Away,” Joonmyun answers, and he smooths down Jimin’s bangs, wiping the drowsiness out of the corners of his eyes. Jimin is five years old, and only knows his father’s arms, his mother’s kisses, and the breeze that comes with the winter sun through the balcony window. “It’s gonna be just you and me now, alright, buddy?”

“Okay,” whispers Jimin, little fingers curling into Joonmyun’s shirt, pressing his face into Joonmyun’s shoulder. Sweet, little child. Joonmyun hopes he doesn’t grow up too fast. “I’m hungry.”

Joonmyun kisses his forehead, and sets him down again, running a hand through his messy hair. “Come on. I’ll make you breakfast, kiddo.”

It is the first morning that they eat without her, but it feels like nothing has changed.

Joonmyun sets the table for two. Jimin giggles and accidentally puts his elbow in the butter again. The weather breaks and settles. Life goes on.

 

 

The years slip past like fast cars, but they go even faster.

Jimin turns ten in the blink of an eye.

“Dad,” he says over dinner one night, no longer ‘daddy,’ because he’s a big boy now, “dad, do you want to come for the science fair next week?”

“When is it, kiddo?” Joonmyun’s never grown out of calling him that, on the other hand. “I’d like to.”

“Thursday,” answers Jimin, reaching for a piece of meat with his chopsticks at the same time, nearly knocking over a glass of water. “It’s the entire morning. Please, please, please! My group’s making this super awesome volcano and we’re gonna win first prize for sure!”

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” says Joonmyun warmly, reaching out to steady the glass before it falls over, way too used to it to have to say anything. Jimin’s not the most graceful kid around, more like a little tornado, what with the way he destroys almost everything he comes into contact with. It reminds Joonmyun of a younger him. He’d been incredibly clumsy when he was young.

“So?” asks Jimin, “are you gonna come see me?”

“Of course,” says Joonmyun. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. “I’ll be there at nine.”

Jimin beams at him, and shovels his food into his mouth with gusto.

Joonmyun shakes his head, and returns to his own plate.

The table is set for two, but Jimin’s bright laugh as he recounts his day at school is more than enough to fill up the entire house with its fulgence.

 

 

Jimin hadn’t understood it, really.

He’d been so young when she’d left.

(Joonmyun hasn’t heard from her in a long time, not since her last postcard three years ago, but he knows she is well. He just knows.)

All he’d known was that the other kids had a mom and a dad, where he just had Joonmyun. “But that’s okay,” Jimin had said, “you’re more than enough, dad.”

(Joonmyun always hopes he can be enough.)

It hasn’t been easy, but Joonmyun has managed long enough. And as long as Jimin is happy, he’s happy. 

(The bed sometimes feels too large for just one person, but Joonmyun can still close his eyes.)

 

 

Excited chatter fills the air. Joonmyun weaves through the crowd, careful not to knock over the kid holding six million test tubes in his arms, and cautiously redirecting a girl who almost drags a wheelbarrow full of hamsters over his foot.

“Dad!” Jimin has spotted him, and his smile is stretched from corner to corner, as he waves from where he’s standing beside some friends of his. “Over here!”

Their science project volcano looks promising, despite the still-wet paper mache and the paint that’s dripping slightly down the side of the volcano. Joonmyun sees the little contraption inside the base of it, and hopes that they remembered to bring goggles.

“Of course we did, Mr. Kim!” says one of Jimin’s friends, pulling out a pair, and snapping them onto his face. He yelps when they sting the bridge of his nose. His other friends giggle at him. “See! We prepared for everything.”

“All the best,” says Joonmyun, and he rests a hand on Jimin’s shoulder. “Don’t let it blow the roof off.”

“We’ll be careful,” laughs Jimin. “Go socialise.”

“I thought I was here to see your project,” comments Joonmyun in amusement, watching as Jimin attempts to steer him towards the section where some of the other parents are talking and watching their kids from, “not see other people.”

“Both,” says Jimin, and he pats Joonmyun’s elbow, “go, have fun.”

Sneaky kid. Joonmyun ruffles his hair playfully, and grins at the outraged noise Jimin lets out. He cares about his hair way too much, nowadays. “Fine, fine.”

He says a polite hello to the other parents, and shuffles awkwardly to the corner, next to someone who’s thumbing through a paperback. He’s never really been comfortable talking to the other parents. He knows what they think of him, sometimes. The man whose wife left him and his kid for god knows what reason, probably his fault. 

Joonmyun sees Jimin from where he’s standing, and Jimin catches his eye, and mouths, go talk to someone.

He could always go talk to Yixing. Joonmyun cranes his neck to look for him, and sees the man attempting to pry apart two boys stuck together with what seems to be super glue. Joonmyun decides, maybe not. Yixing’s already got enough trouble on his hands, having to coordinate the event, as the science teacher.

They’d been friends long before Jimin had been born, and Joonmyun has always been so grateful for his help in everything, from coming over to babysit when Joonmyun had been stuck in the office, to just being there as a friend, for him. For Jimin. For both of them.

He settles for a little wave, and Yixing waves back cheerily, wielding a large pair of scissors, to the horror of the two boys who are still glued together. “Stay still,” he can hear Yixing say as the two boys wail, and Joonmyun is so glad he didn’t become a teacher.

The sound of paper rustling and a loud thump surprises him. Joonmyun glances to the side to see that the young man beside him has dropped his book, and out of instinct, Joonmyun bends down to pick it up, brushing dust off the cover. It’s an old copy of a Tolkien book, that Joonmyun hasn’t seen anyone reading in a while. “Silmarillion,” he murmurs appreciatively, and he hands it back to the guy. “Good taste.”

“Thanks,” he says, accepting it with a slight smile. “And thanks, for that. You didn’t have to.”

“Common courtesy.” Joonmyun follows up with, “So, who are you here for? Sibling?”

The man laughs lightly, and absently tugs at his collar. “Daughter, actually.”

“Oh,” says Joonmyun, and his mouth runs before his brain can, “you seem very young to have a daughter this age. I mean, not that it’s anything bad. Just that it took me by surprise.”

“Things happen,” the man just says, “just not in the way you expect them to.”

“Yes,” says Joonmyun, “that’s always true.” Not wanting the conversation to slip, he asks, “So, which tiny terror is yours?”

The man scans the crowd, and motions with his chin. “The girl next to the volcano table. With the pigtails. You?” Joonmyun sees her immediately, talking to Jimin, and making a face at the mess he’s made.

“The kid next to yours,” says Joonmyun, and the man makes a surprised sound, “with the paint on his face.”

“Are they friends?” The man watches them closely, smiling wider when his daughter thwacks Jimin on the head with a cardboard slate, and Jimin pouts. “Cute.”

Joonmyun laughs. “That kid. I swear, Jimin is always up to no good.”

“Nayoung’s just as bad. I’m Kyungsoo, by the way.” The man offers a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Jimin’s dad.”

“Joonmyun.” He shakes Kyungsoo’s hand, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jimin and Nayoung whispering and pointing at them. “It’s nice to meet you too, Nayoung’s dad.”

Kyungsoo smiles, and it’s a slow smile that Joonmyun likens to the rain, that patters quietly on the sidewalks, the sweet sound that completes the colder afternoons. “So, were you also directed here to make friends with the other parents?”

“Right on,” says Joonmyun, and he sheepishly grins, “but I’ve never been very good at things like that.”

“Are you sure about that?” Kyungsoo’s gaze rests on the two children, who are now preoccupied with their projects, as Yixing draws nearer to see them. “You seem to be quite apt at conversation, with what we’ve got going on here.”

“Maybe it’s just you, then,” replies Joonmyun, and they catch each other in a look, that makes Joonmyun smile slightly, but he pulls himself back, not wanting to make a wrong first impression. “So, are you from around here?”

“Yes.” Kyungsoo sets his book in his jacket. “Fifteen minutes away.”

 

 

It’s in the car later, on the way home, that Jimin asks, “So, you met Nayoung’s dad today, right?”

“I did,” says Joonmyun simply, hands on the steering wheel, and eyes ahead. “He’s very nice.”

“Good,” says Jimin, and he settles back into his seat, occupying himself with the knobs of the radio.

Joonmyun glances over at him momentarily. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Yeah,” says Jimin, settling on the rock station. The Beatles’ I Wanna Hold Your Hand starts blaring from the speakers, and Jimin drums his fingers on his knees. “Nayoung talks about him a lot, in class.”

“And do you talk to Nayoung a lot, then?” teases Joonmyun, and immediately Jimin goes beet-red. Aha. Got you. “I see.”

“Dad,” whines Jimin, and Joonmyun laughs. “I don’t like her that way! She’s just a friend.”

“She better just be,” says Joonmyun, “no chasing after girls until you’re at least thirty.”

Jimin grumbles all the way back to the house. Joonmyun just hums cheerfully.

 

 

They meet again, another time in school, a few months down the line, when the parents come in to pick up their kids’ report cards.

Joonmyun knows Jimin’s been doing well in class recently, and he’s looking forward to speaking with Jimin’s teacher, to discuss his progress. He’s proud, he really is. Jimin has been improving, and Joonmyun’s glad for it. Glad that Jimin is concentrating well in school.

All he wants is for Jimin to grow up right, and he hopes that he’s on the right path, now.

“Kyungsoo,” he says, as they nearly run into each other in the corridors, coming into the building out of the impossibly hot weather. “Hey, hi.”

“Hi, Joonmyun,” says Kyungsoo, and he’s sweating profusely. “God, the weather’s bad today.”

“Absolutely,” agrees Joonmyun, “I’m going to take Jimin out for ice cream afterwards. Also because he’s been doing well in class.”

Kyungsoo nods approvingly. “Nayoung too. I should do that, maybe. Where are you both planning on going, later?”

They make small talk as they head towards the hall, where the teachers and parents are collecting the report cards. There’s still a line of parents, waiting, so they settle into chairs nearby, and continue to chat, until a small figure practically leaps at Kyungsoo, calling happily, “Papa!”

“Hey, sweetheart.” Kyungsoo kisses Nayoung’s forehead. “Where’ve you been?”

“Waiting with some of the other kids. I just wanted to say hi to you, since it’s not our turn yet.”

Kyungsoo motions beside him. “Say hi to Mr. Kim. Your friend’s dad.”

Nayoung waves, smile blindingly bright. “Hello, Mr. Kim. Jimin looks just like you.”

“I hope that’s a good thing,” he says, and Nayoung giggles, before whispering something into Kyungsoo’s ear, and hopping off. “She’s an energetic one, isn’t she?”

“Very,” says Kyungsoo, shaking his head. “Almost too energetic, sometimes. But it’s nice. She fills up the space in the house.”

“I know what that feels like.” Joonmyun smiles, thinking about Jimin’s undeniably joyful presence, no matter the circumstance. “With just two in the house, it starts to feel a lot bigger, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” Kyungsoo gives him a quick look. “If you don’t mind me asking, you’re not married?”

“I was,” admits Joonmyun, leaning back, “but we separated. It was on good terms, though we haven’t seen her in a few years.” Out of curiousity, Joonmyun asks, “And, you?”

“I’m not married.” Kyungsoo glances down. “It’s a little tricky to say. I’d rather not have to explain, at the moment. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Joonmyun nudges his arm with his own, slightly. “Hey, so. Want to join us, later? Let the kids enjoy themselves.”

Kyungsoo smiles, soft and calm, and it makes up for the searing weather outside. “Sure.”

 

 

“Dad,” asks Jimin, a month or two after, “I have to go to a friend’s house for a school project thing.”

Joonmyun grunts, eyes still scanning the newspaper in his hands. Economic crisis again—

“Nayoung’s house,” continues Jimin, “it’s reaaaaaally important, dad! I gotta do good in this class, or else!”

The newspaper is folded, and set on his lap. “Oh?” asks Joonmyun, raising an eyebrow. “Just the two of you?”

“Dad,” whines Jimin, flushing slightly. “Her dad will be there too, okay. And I don’t like her that way!”

Joonmyun laughs, and Jimin scowls. “I know, I know. What, can’t your old man tease you a little bit?”

Jimin sniffs. “I’m too big for teasing.”

“You’re ten,” reminds Joonmyun, smiling as he picks his newspaper back up, “wait twenty more years, hmm?”

“Daaaad.”

 

 

The door opens.

“Hi!” says Nayoung, her small face peeking out from behind the door. “Dad’s in the study.”

“Could you let him know we’re here?” Joonmyun smiles, and Nayoung nods, spinning around. “Thanks, Nayoung.”

Jimin patters in, clutching his bag to his chest. “So nice,” he whispers, eyes taking in his surroundings. The Do residence is a humble little flat, but it’s cosy and warm and feels just like home, with the soft burnished oranges and yellows of the walls, and the brown sofa by the wall, and the wooden furniture that’s placed about the flat. 

“Put your stuff on the table,” calls Nayoung, “papa, they’re here! Papa!”

“Coming,” trails a voice from the furthest door, and Nayoung makes her way back to them with a skip in her step, holding her own bag, and what seems to be a lot of glitter. 

Jimin crinkles his nose. “I thought we weren’t gonna use glitter.”

“But glitter makes everything better.” Nayoung sets the bottle of glitter firmly on the table. “We’re gonna have the best project ever.”

“Okay,” says Jimin cautiously, “but only if we get to use the My Little Pony stickers.”

Nayoung squints at him for a while, before slowly agreeing. “Deal.”

Joonmyun blinks in confusion. He wonders if he even wants to know what kind of project they’re working on. He hopes it’s art.

“Did you bring your calculator,” says Nayoung, hands on her hips, and Jimin makes a forlorn sound.

Joonmyun just shakes his head.

“If you were wondering why they’d need a calculator for an art project,” says Kyungsoo, walking out of the room he’d been in, “don’t ask me either. Go on, you guys can use the dining table.”

The two kids patter off to the side, and immediately start chattering excitedly, something about paper and blocks and cows.

“Thanks for having them over,” says Joonmyun, smiling, “Jimin had been pretty excited about this project of theirs.”

“Nayoung too.” Kyungsoo glances toward the clock on the wall, ticking away, and he asks, “Would you like to stay for a cup of tea?”

“I don’t want to impose,” begins Joonmyun, “Kyungsoo.”

“It’s fine.” Kyungsoo’s already moving to the kitchen, to set the kettle on the stove, and he’s talking even as he bustles around easily, “It’s raining, isn’t it? It must have been cold, outside.”

“Yes,” admits Joonmyun, taking off his coat and draping it over his arm as he moves to the kitchen too, taking a seat by the little counter attached to the wall. “You have a nice place.”

Kyungsoo sits down opposite him, setting two mugs on the countertop, steaming with hot tea. “Thanks,” he says, “it’s a right mess, though, most of the time. You came on a good day.”

Joonmyun slips a hand around his mug, and savours the warmth that seeps through the ceramic. “I know what that’s like.” There’s a sigh that both of them echo. Having a kid is a joy, but the messes they leave behind are usually not. “Were you working on something, earlier?”

“My book.” Kyungsoo takes a sip from his cup. “I illustrate children’s books.”

“Ah,” says Joonmyun, eyes wide, “that must be fun.”

“Well, you’d think a degree in graphic design would get a person somewhere further in life.” Kyungsoo shakes his head, an almost-laugh slipping from his lips. “I was lucky to even get hired by this company. As long as they pay well, I guess.”

“I see,” says Joonmyun, suddenly feeling a little guilty, thinking about his rather well-paying job, and he hastily sips at his tea, nearly burning his tongue. But the heat calms his nerves again. “What kind of tea is this?”

“Raspberry,” says Kyungsoo, “I like to collect tea. And don’t feel bad about earning more than me, if you are, please. Everyone works differently.”

“I’m sorry.” Joonmyun glances up, and Kyungsoo is smiling, despite the awkward situation. “What?”

“You’ve got tea on your collar.”

“Shit,” says Joonmyun, making to wipe at it, and his eyes shift towards the kids. “Uh, they didn’t hear that, did they.”

“They’re pretty absorbed in their own world right now, don’t worry.” Kyungsoo hands him a tissue, the amused expression still on his face. “Slow down, it’s not like you’re going to get kicked out or something.”

“I’m not really,” starts Joonmyun, clearing his throat, “uh, good at social interaction, most times. I mean, I’m good at it when it comes to work. Presentations, and things. But with people I like? Not so.”

“People you like?” Kyungsoo’s gaze sharpens on him. “So, you like me, then?”

Joonmyun’s voice catches in his throat for a second, and Kyungsoo’s still looking at him in that way, and Joonmyun wonders if he’s said something wrong for a second. “I mean,” he adds, “as a friend. Of course. I mean, I’m sorry, did that come off a bit strange?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head, but Joonmyun has the feeling there’s something more to it. “No,” says Kyungsoo, “no, I just thought—that you mean—“

“Like you, maybe?” Joonmyun absently runs his fingers along the rim of his mug. “Well, to be fair, I’d probably make it a lot more obvious if I was trying to flirt. I was trying for friendly conversation for now, by the way.”

Kyungsoo laughs, soft like the drizzle against the frosted windows. “So,” he says, tone slightly hopeful, “does that mean you’re—“

“Yeah.” Joonmyun’s heart is racing a little. “Yeah. And you—“

“Same.” Kyungsoo hasn’t glanced away yet. “I just… I wasn’t sure about you, since you had a wife and all.”

“She knew,” says Joonmyun, grasp tightening around his mug, “we dated in our early twenties, but we’d been friends since high school. She’d set me up a few times, too, with blind dates.”

“That’s,” says Kyungsoo, “that’s really nice. I wish I’d had someone like that, when I was younger.”

Joonmyun doesn’t want to push, but he attempts just a little try. “But, Nayoung, then?”

“Ah.” Kyungsoo bites his lip. “That’s a story for another day, I think.”

“But for now,” says Joonmyun, lifting his mug to his mouth, “tell me about your books.”

It’s a gradual thing, the pleased expression that builds on Kyungsoo’s face, but it’s one that makes Joonmyun’s heart sing, as Kyungsoo begins talking about the first children’s book he’d drawn for.

Maybe, just maybe, he thinks. He’s got another chance.

 

 

The skies thunder overhead, roaring through the tops of the buildings.

Joonmyun rushes through the crowd, his briefcase held over his head, attempting to get to shade before the rain worsens. 

It’s as soon as he reaches the awning of a nearby Starbucks that the rain begins to slam down against the streets and passersby, stirring up strong winds that nearly knock a few people off course. 

Joonmyun sighs gratefully, and makes to turn, but ends up colliding with someone instead, and there’s a yelp as a cup of coffee’s knocked to the ground. “Oh, god,” says Joonmyun, clutching at the other person’s shoulder, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see—Kyungsoo?”

“Oh,” says Kyungsoo, voice raised to combat the whistling winds, “hey, Joonmyun. It’s okay, I wasn’t… I wasn’t looking either.” 

(They haven’t met in a few weeks. Kyungsoo looks tiny in his huge parka, hair windswept and cheeks tinted rosy from the cold. Joonmyun thinks he looks adorable.)

“No, really, I’m so sorry, oh god. Hey, wait,” says Joonmyun loudly, over the sound of the rain, “let me replace that for you, yeah? We’re right outside anyway. Are you going home right now?”

“A friend of mine is watching over Nayoung for another hour or so,” says Kyungsoo, tucking his hands into his pockets, shivering. “If you insist.”

Joonmyun does, and they steer their way into the warmth and dryness of the Starbucks, ordering a couple of coffees and sitting down at a table by the window, waiting for the rain to lessen, to calm.

“Were you on the way back, too?” 

“Yeah,” says Joonmyun, nodding, “but I usually stop by to get coffee here, after. My cousin is babysitting Jimin today, so I had some extra time.”

They continue to chat, topics exchanging between them easily, from work to school to parenting tips. Joonmyun finds that he’s got a lot in common with Kyungsoo, from a love of books, to wanting to know the best way to remove paint stains from walls without having to paint over them.

“You know,” says Kyungsoo, just as their drinks are finishing, “this is nice. Having a conversation like this. I haven’t really spoken to anyone this freely in a long time.”

“I’m glad, then.” Joonmyun glances down at his watch, and he’s got about five minutes to get on the subway. But, if he doesn’t take this opportunity now, then. “Hey, Kyungsoo?”

“Mm?”

“Would you,” Joonmyun starts, pulse thumping in his wrists as he curves his palms around his cup, “would you mind if I bought you coffee again, some other day? And not just as a replacement?”

Kyungsoo blinks, but then he’s laughing, and it’s refreshing to hear, so refreshing, like the rain that beats against the sidewalk outside, but less fierce, less strong, and more carefree, more relaxed. “Only,” he says, “if it’s tea, the next time.”

Joonmyun can’t help his own smile, that settles on his features, and inside him somewhere, filling up that gap that’s been there for so many, so many years, now. “Tea sounds good.”

And just as the rain fades, something else comes out from behind the clouds.

The sun is warm against Joonmyun’s skin as he walks home with a new hope in his step.

 

 

“You’ve been hanging out with Mr. Do a lot recently,” chirps Jimin a few weeks later, over breakfast.

Joonmyun lathers a piece of toast with butter, and sets it in front of him. “Yes, I have.”

“What do you both do?” 

“What do you think we do?”

“Adult things?” Jimin bites off the corner of his toast. “Read the newspaper, talk about business, drink lots of coffee?”

Surprisingly, Jimin isn’t too far off. “Two out of three,” says Joonmyun, amused, “we don’t read the newspaper.”

“Aw, man. I was close.” Jimin hums curiously. “So, are you both dating, or something?”

Joonmyun nearly chokes on his toast. He’s never told Jimin—never really mentioned it, and he doesn’t know what Jimin will think.

“Because if you are,” continues Jimin nonchalantly, “does this mean I can go over to Nayoung’s house more often? She got these really great wheelie shoes the other day, and we’re both the same size, and she said I could try them out.”

Joonmyun’s brain only catches onto the first part of the sentence for the first few seconds. “You mean, you’d be fine with me dating Kyungsoo? Another man?” Then, the rest of the sentence registers. “Also, I thought you said wheelie shoes were boring, the other day.”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Jimin impatiently, “I mean, it’s not a big deal, right, dad? You like him, and he likes you. I think it’s nice.” He practically inhales the last bit of his toast. “Her wheelie shoes have flashing lights on the side.”

“Of course,” says Joonmyun, “lights, of course. But Jimin, are you sure?”

“About the shoes or about you dating Mr. Do?”

“Me and Mr. Do.”

“If it makes you happy,” says Jimin simply, reaching for another piece of toast, “then I’m happy, dad.”

Joonmyun reaches over to pull Jimin into a hug, and Jimin squeaks in surprise. “Have I ever mentioned how lucky I am to have a son like you?” whispers Joonmyun, ruffling Jimin’s hair fondly.

“Yeah,” says Jimin, grinning, and he returns the hug, “but I’m even luckier to have a dad like you.”

Joonmyun smiles, and motions with his hand. “Finish up. You’re gonna be late for school.”

Jimin laughs, and accidentally puts his elbow into the butter. Joonmyun just sighs, and points him to the bathroom.

The clouds look like they are breaking, now.

 

 

Kyungsoo and Nayoung visit for the first time, some days later.

“Make yourselves at home,” says Joonmyun, and the kids speed off to play, Jimin chattering happily about the board game he’d just gotten, and Nayoung following after him with earnest interest, and Kyungsoo settles himself in Joonmyun’s kitchen easily. “Tea?”

“What kind?”

“The one you gave me.” Joonmyun wiggles a packet of ginger and orange tea. 

Ever since they’d started meeting up more often, tea had become one of their regular topics, seeing as Kyungsoo loves tea, and Joonmyun’s always been open to more choices than just regular Earl Grey, and Chinese tea. Kyungsoo won’t stop giving him tea samples, now. But Joonmyun likes it. He likes having a part of Kyungsoo with him at home, in a weird way.

It’s at Kyungsoo’s appreciative nod that Joonmyun sets a couple of teabags into cups, and brings them to where Kyungsoo’s seated at the small dining table, keeping an eye on the two kids who have assumed control over the living room, draped across the carpet as they play their board game with rapt attention.

“So,” says Joonmyun, “been well?”

“Yes,” says Kyungsoo, smiling, but he looks weary, though. Joonmyun just wishes Kyungsoo would tell him more, but he know they’re not quite at that point, yet. “And you?”

“Around there too.” Joonmyun sets the sugar in the middle of the table. “You seem a little tired. Working late?”

“You could say that.” Kyungsoo allows a yawn to escape his throat. “I’ve got a deadline coming up soon, and quite a few more pages to work on.”

“You can do it.” Without thinking, Joonmyun reaches beside him to set his hand on Kyungsoo’s, just a reassuring gesture. It’s only a few moments later that Joonmyun glances up at Kyungsoo, words swallowed back. 

Kyungsoo says nothing. But, his own hand turns over, and his fingers reach up to entwine with Joonmyun’s, warm and slow, and Joonmyun feels a swell of affection rise inside him. 

They’re holding hands.

“This is nice,” says Kyungsoo softly, “we should have done this earlier.”

“Yeah,” says Joonmyun, and he laughs a little. “We should have done a few things earlier, to be honest.”

“Oh?” The corner of Kyungsoo’s mouth quirks up. “Like what else?”

Joonmyun’s mouth suddenly feels a little dry. He’s not about to say that he’s been thinking about kissing Kyungsoo for weeks now, it’s probably too soon for that, but—

—but then, Kyungsoo is leaning forward to close the gap between them, to press just the lightest, most fleeting kiss to Joonmyun’s mouth, and his lips are so warm, so pliant, and Joonmyun can’t help the sigh that slips when Kyungsoo pulls away, a bare few seconds later.

“Oh,” says Joonmyun, and Kyungsoo’s laughing now. “Okay, that too.”

There’s a loud shriek from the living room. “Ew,” says Nayoung, as Jimin’s giggling his face off, “not in public! There are kids here!”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” says Kyungsoo smoothly, “go back to playing.”

Jimin adds, “You both are cute together.”

Is that a flush Joonmyun sees creeping up Kyungsoo’s neck? Joonmyun nudges him in the side, and murmurs, “Well, you’re definitely the cute one, out of the two of us.”

Kyungsoo goes even redder. Weakness discovered.

“Go back to your game,” says Joonmyun, and Jimin sticks out his tongue, before rolling back to the floor, where he squeals in outrage at Nayoung’s four-space advantage on the next dice-roll.

“So,” says Kyungsoo, “I’d like to do that again sometime. Properly.”

Joonmyun says, “I’d like that too.” And they grin at each other, something new and something good stirring between them, something much like the weather outside, bright and shining.

 

 

Days turn into weeks, and things begin to come together.

It feels like a strange new version of family, now, what with them spending more time together now, and practically having dinner at each other’s places with the kids every day. Joonmyun starts to to notice the space in the house lessening. It’s almost like with Kyungsoo and Nayoung around more often, it’s less empty. Less lonely. 

Joonmyun likes it.

But the attraction to Kyungsoo, subtle in their first few weeks of meeting, still growing in their next few months of getting to know each other, is now more apparent, more obvious. 

Where Joonmyun never really noticed it before, he does now, the way Kyungsoo looks, and holds himself, sometimes. Kyungsoo is attractive, he really is, and Joonmyun likes watching him when he thinks Kyungsoo’s not aware of his stares. 

The way Kyungsoo smiles, his lips curving up, bow-shaped and charming. He’s small, but he’s got a hidden confidence that he doesn’t really show. Joonmyun knows it’s there though. 

And sometimes, when Joonmyun kisses Kyungsoo, he wishes they could just go that extra mile, but the kids are almost always around, and they can never get a free moment to themselves, what with work piling up on them recently.

It’s only when Jimin comes up to him one night and asks, “Hey dad, can I go for this birthday sleepover party thing?” that the chance arises.

And damn if Joonmyun won’t take it. 

 

 

“Nayoung’s got a sleepover tonight too?”

“Yeah,” breathes Kyungsoo, grinning, “our luck.”

Our luck indeed, thinks Joonmyun, as they stand gazing at each other. This moment has been waiting for them for so long, and now, Joonmyun thinks, he can finally have this, have Kyungsoo to himself, all to himself for this one night, and he can finally show Kyungsoo just how much he actually wants him.

“Come here,” says Kyungsoo first, and Joonmyun strides across the room to tug Kyungsoo into a kiss, one that starts light, slow, but quickly turns deeper. Hands slide across skin, fingers curl into clothing, and Kyungsoo lets out a soft shudder when Joonmyun lets his palm slip down further, fingertips tucking into the waistband of his pants. “Joonmyun.”

“Can I?” murmurs Joonmyun, kissing down the side of Kyungsoo’s neck, and Kyungsoo nods quickly, leading them backwards to the bedroom, where Joonmyun pushes Kyungsoo back against the bed, until his knees bump the edge, and Kyungsoo pulls Joonmyun back onto it, threading his fingers through Joonmyun’s hair as Joonmyun kisses him again, and again, and again. 

“Less talk, less clothes, more touching,” says Kyungsoo, but he’s kissing back just as eagerly, and it takes a while for them to divest themselves just of their pants, but that’s enough for today, Joonmyun doesn’t want them to go too fast, but at the same time this couldn’t be happening fast enough, and it’s without much ado that he’s got a fist around Kyungsoo’s cock, still kissing down Kyungsoo’s neck.

Kyungsoo is making these soft little groans, almost like gasps, but the way he’s got his fingers curled into Joonmyun’s shoulder suggest that Kyungsoo’s just as wanting as he is, just as craving for this as Joonmyun has been, and all Joonmyun wants right now is to make Kyungsoo feel good.

“Kyungsoo,” exhales Joonmyun, so turned on just by the way Kyungsoo’s mouth is half-open, and his cheeks are flushed, “god, you’re beautiful.”

Kyungsoo lets out a stutter of a laugh, and he leans down to kiss Joonmyun, even as Joonmyun’s making good work with his hand, jerking Kyungsoo off until he’s coming with a soft cry, arching into Joonmyun’s embrace.

His breath is coming out in soft little pants, against the side of Joonmyun’s neck. Joonmyun turns his head to fit their mouths together again, drinking him in completely.

“We’ve got the whole night to ourselves,” whispers Kyungsoo, pulling away to rest their foreheads together, “let’s make the most of it.”

And they do. Joonmyun bends Kyungsoo back until Kyungsoo’s gasping, fingers curling into the bedsheets, the syllables of Joonmyun’s name slipping from his lips like they’re his last words. The world is forgotten in those moments. Joonmyun comes, back arched and toes curled, and Kyungsoo follows suit, a low cry echoing through the room, through the dim light, through the sound of their breaths mingling.

It might be the afterglow, but Joonmyun looks at Kyungsoo, and really looks at him, and thinks, maybe this could be love.

It might not be love right now. But it could be.

And Joonmyun wants it to be, so much.

 

 

He wakes up in the morning to tea and toast.

“Feels like home,” says Joonmyun, kissing the side of Kyungsoo’s neck as he comes up behind him, arms wrapping around Kyungsoo’s waist. “Good morning.”

“It’s your house,” says Kyungsoo dryly, but he leans into Joonmyun’s hold anyway, smiling. “Hello.”

“I meant,” says Joonmyun, “it feels like home with you here. With me.”

Kyungsoo glances at him, and Joonmyun hasn’t felt so warm inside for a long, long time. Like the sun has exploded into a million shards of heat and light and bright summer sky. “Joonmyun,” says Kyungsoo, shaking his head, “you’re such a sap.”

“But all yours,” counters Joonmyun lightly, and Kyungsoo elbows him in the side, laughing. “Tea?”

“Just the right kind,” says Kyungsoo, pouring out a mug for him, and they spend the morning together, just together, nothing else if not just immersing themselves in each other. Talking, laughing, looking at each other. And truly now, even without the kids around at this very moment, the house no longer feels empty.

Joonmyun no longer feels empty.

And the weather outside looks just perfect, for once.


End file.
